


When love takes over

by johnlockfics



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BBC, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, My First Fanfic, Parentlock, Post-Season/Series 04, gayromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlockfics/pseuds/johnlockfics
Summary: This Johnlock fiction takes place after Season 4. Sherlock is in love with John and also knows that John feels the same, yet somehow he finds it impossible to act on this. Meanwhile John has a hard time figuring out what is bothering the detective, since his behaviour has changed drastically.A bit of Parentlock, a lot of Johnlock. Mainly fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone,  
> this is my first fanfiction, so I would be very happy, if a few of you gave me constructive feedback/criticism. As English is not my first language, feel free to let me know about any grammar or spelling mistakes I made. I hope you enjoy reading this fic and don't think my ideas are too far-fetched. Thank you to my friends that took the time to give me tips and helped me getting the best out of this.

John

 

After finishing his last lecture at Barts, John began walking back home to 221b Baker Street. He looked at his feet and the corner of his mouth slightly turned upwards when he thought about how everything had worked out surprisingly okay for him in the end. The former soldier was still having trouble with coping with everything that had happened to him lately, but at least living together with Sherlock and Rosie was mostly uncomplicated. John was confused about many things and still needed to see his therapist now and then. However, he felt moderate. When he and Sherlock had recovered from The Final Problem, he had decided to take a day job again, because he wanted to be a role model for Rosie. John wanted her to grow up in an ordered, rather than horribly chaotic household. Of course, Sherlock would always cause trouble and be all over the place, but he figured that Rosie needed to have at least one parent that could provide safety, ease and consistency. He, as the biological father, would take over this role. Therefore, he had talked to Mike, whether he could give medicine lectures at Baths college and he had told John that they currently were looking for someone. A few days later everything was settled and he could start teaching. The first few days were challenging, but he had adjusted to his new task very quickly and found a method for his lessons, which seemed to work very well for him and the students.  
At home, John had climbed up half the stairs when he heard a loud conversation from the living room, which he quickly identified as a fight between Sherlock and his brother.

“What I do with my body is none of your business, no one asked you to watch over every part of my life, so just stop spying on me all the time”, shouted Sherlock.  
“I am seriously concerned about your current state of health. I know what happens when something is bothering you and it has never been this bad, so as your brother I am obliged to tell you that you cannot keep going like this.” 

Mycroft’s voice was much quieter than Sherlock’s, but John could still hear everything very clearly.  
He thought of leaving, because this conversation obviously was not meant for him to hear. However, he could not convince himself to turn around and leave. He was too curious about what would happen. Besides, when his best friend needed help, he would be there for him. He knew well enough that this might be the only way to find out what had been going on with Sherlock the last couple of weeks. He had acted very strangely. Sherlock was always energetic and active, but now he spent his time lying on the couch or in bed. He did not take any cases, although there were a few interesting ones. The detective’s mood was worse than ever and he had been immensely aggressive towards his roommate recently. Usually, this only occurred when he was bored, but it was different this time. John found this very alarming, but when addressing the subject, he was not able to get anything more out of the detective than angry huffs, dismissive arm gestures and constant silence. Considering all this, John decided to stay on the stairwell and listen for just another few minutes.

“Sherlock be reasonable, you will starve yourself to death if you don’t eat at all”, Mycroft started again.  
“You sound like John now”, Sherlock spat out contemptuously. 

John sighed silently and shifted his weight from his left to his right leg, as the former began to ache slightly.

“You know precisely that my brain does not work well and my thought process slows down after consuming food, because the parasympathetic nervous system and thereby the digestive system begins working and drains the energy from my brain.”  
Mycroft let out a little derisive laugh:” Yes, but the brain of a dead man does not work at all. Listen, I know you never do what I suggest, but you should take care of yourself, because believe it or not, there are people who care about you.”

Sherlocks reply was just an angry snort and it seemed like the conversation was over. John was disappointed, because he had hoped to find out what exactly caused Sherlock’s recent behaviour.

When he heard steps, he quickly adjusted his position and began walking up the remaining stairs. Only seconds later, the door opened and Mycroft stepped out into the hallway with a concerned look on his face, which disappeared instantly when he saw John. 

“Oh, good afternoon John, nice to see you”, Mycroft said with his fake smile “I see now that I leave, you can take care of my younger brother”.  
John despised his expression, the cold eyes especially, and just replied with: “Mycroft”. 

He grimaced and made room for him to walk past. Mrs. Hudson had called Mycroft a reptile once, maybe this comparison was not so wrong after all. He waited a few more seconds on the stairs until he heard the front door closing with a “click”. John slowly exhaled, he hadn’t even noticed that he had been holding his breath the whole time. He slowly pushed the door to the living room open and spotted the detective staring out of the window, Sherlocks back was turned towards him, so he only saw the outlines of his roommate’s slim figure and the mess of curls on the back of his head. His robe slightly moved in the draft that was caused by the open door and window. John found it complimented his features even more. 

“Hello John”, Sherlock said in a low voice, still facing the window.  
“Hey, are you okay?”, John asked immediately.  
“Hm, what? Oh, sure yes. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”, the taller man turned around, his brows furrowed and a questioning look on his face. 

John was taken aback, because for a split second, he imagined having seen an incredibly hurt look in his friends’ eyes, but then it was all gone and the facade was back up. 

He remembered that he needed to answer: “Well, I don’t know, maybe you just enjoy staring melodramatically out of the window.”  
“Oh come on, you know very well that this is what I do 90% of the time.”  
Of course Sherlock was being sarcastic, but John could not other than smirk, as it was indeed something his roommate did on a quite regular basis.  
“A cup of tea would be nice by the way.”

John rolled his eyes, he really hated this sometimes, but in general he did not bother when Sherlock was ordering him around, he was used to this after all. The detective showed a teasing grin, picked up his violin and started playing an uplifting song. John walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on and the violin’s comforting tone surrounded them like so often, but the doctor could feel that something just wasn’t right. This had been going on for weeks and he started to get really frustrated and also hurt by this. Sherlock was his best friend after all and even though the detective did not like talking (except for when he was deducing and showing off, of course) he could at least give John a hint over whatever was bothering him. 

Now John was just clueless. He wanted the old Sherlock back. He loved it when Sherlock was ranting and rambling about all the idiots out there or when he paced through the room, walking right over the coffee table without even realising it. He enjoyed it when the detective played his violin (yes, even at 3 o’clock in the morning) or did his experiments on the kitchen table. Sure, he hated the smell and he would never use that table for food again, but he had gotten used to it and now that none of that was happening, he honestly missed it.

The water boiled, so he took two cups and the kettle and walked over to Sherlocks chair, where he put down the cup on the coffee table. The detective showed no reaction at first, but laid the violin back in its case eventually. He flopped into his chair and took the tea without saying a word. A ‘thank you’ would have been nice, but John did not want to make a fuss this time. He sat down opposite his friend and savoured the first few sips of the tea. Maybe he should ask straightforward what was bothering the detective, now seemed like the appropriate time. 

“Listen Sherlock, is there anything you want to tell me? Because you can, I mean tell me, no matter what it is. I get the feeling that something is completely off and if that is true, you should talk about it.” 

As no answer came from the other man he looked up to Sherlock and realised that the detective had steepled his hands under his chin and his gaze was empty, so judging by that, he had already disappeared into his mindpalace. He spent the majority of his time in there nowadays. John sighed, this was really not going well. He did not like to talk about this kind of stuff either, but sometimes there simply was no other way. He took a quick look at the newspaper before he decided that he wanted to take a shower.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock

 

Sherlock slowly exhaled when his blogger had disappeared into the bathroom. He made John think he went off into his mindpalace, but that was not true after all. He just could not stand the asking expression and worrying look on his friend’s face anymore. He would not tell him what was going on in his head. He knew that he could very well trust John with everything, not that Sherlock enjoyed talking over feelings and problems, but he was aware of the fact that no matter what was happening, the doctor would be there for him. Usually he would have told John about his problem by this point, but there was this one single thing he could not say out loud in front of him. Sherlock was completely and utterly in love with his roommate.

He was quite sure John returned his feelings, all the signs were there: Widened pupils, raised pulse and his breath hitched when Sherlock came close to him. However, he found himself unable to do anything that brought them together, because what if he was wrong? It had happened before. Even when he was right, John was not aware of his feelings yet, meaning that he would most likely reject the detective anyways. He kept saying that he was not gay and made sure everyone knew they weren’t a couple.

This made Sherlock ache, even if he hated to admit that he could feel such a thing. Seeing John every day, knowing about their shared feelings, but not being able to do anything about it, because his friend had not realised it yet. You cannot tell someone that he is in love with you. If Sherlock dared to say anything only vaguely pointing in this direction, John would get mad and confused. He already was a mess. Sherlock’s death, his return, Mary’s death, the whole drug story and Eurus had worn John down emotionally. He had a little daughter whom he needed to care for and Sherlock could see how he struggled sometimes and the one thing he did not want to do was pushing him over the edge by telling him about either of them being in love with the other.

Sherlock’s desire to kiss John grew every day, but he could not act on this. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t. He had already caused too much trouble in John’s life. However, he needed to get his feelings out in some way, so the only possibility of freeing his emotions was through Rosie. He cared about her deeply, it was as if she was his own daughter, so he did everything he could to support John raising her. It made them look like a real family, something Sherlock never thought he would find, since his own relatives could not really be described as “family”. He used to hate the word.

The three of them really were a family, but with the romantic involvement of the parents missing. Sherlock really hoped that this might change one day, even though this seemed impossible right now. He could predict so many things and knew nearly everything, but regarding this topic he couldn’t tell what would happen, he just didn’t know. And he really didn’t like not knowing.

Sherlock sipped at his tea and realised that it had gone cold. John seemed to have finished his shower, because the bathroom door opened and a half naked figure stepped into the hallway. The doctor was wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. Sherlock quickly lowered his gaze, knowing very well what would happen to certain areas of his body when he kept staring.  
The truth was, John kept a quite trained body hidden under all his jumpers and seeing his torso covered in little drops, hair still damp and dishevelled send a jolt of electricity through Sherlocks body. This were the moments Sherlock hated. At these times he was aware that he lost control over his body and his mind. He hated not being able to think properly, seeing John partly naked distracted him and clouded his judgement. This moments of weakness showed very well that he was not a machine without feelings and it made him angry, because this was the facade he so desperately tried to keep up. He could not show any soft spots.  
When Sherlock heard John’s steps on the stairs, he raised from his chair and disappeared into his room. He had realised that it was time to pick Rosie up from day care, so he got dressed took his coat and scarf and left the flat. 

When he came back with Rosie on his arm, who was a bit sleepy by then, John had already made dinner. Sherlock could smell the scrambled eggs and toasted bread immediately when he started going up the stairs. He looked at Rosie, who seemed to have smelled it as well, since her face lit up. She loved scrambled eggs and squeaked. The detective could not suppress a sheepish grin when he saw this. He entered the kitchen and placed Rosie in her special chair before taking a look at John, whose face was concentrated and fixed on the pan in his hands. Sherlock took three plates out of the cupboard and placed them next to the stove for John to put the eggs and the bread on. 

“So, you are going to eat something then?” The doctor seemed rather surprised.  
“We’ll see.” Sherlock placed a plate and a plastic fork in front of Rosie, who could eat most food on her own by now. There would be quite a lot of her portion next to the plate by the end of the meal, but she made progress.

Sherlock looked at her completely in awe. She was actually a lot like her father, her hair was blonde, when she smiled dimples appeared on her cheeks and she already had a demanding nature. She could not talk that much, but she could very well make orders. Sherlock felt a smile form on his face, as he watched her fighting to get the scrambled eggs on her fork, she even had the same concentrated expression as her father. He looked at his own plate and forced down as much bread and eggs as he could. He thought that he could at least try, for John’s and Rosie’s sake. When they had finished their dinner, Sherlock said he wanted to bring the little girl to bed today. John agreed and stood up to wash the dishes.  
The detective picked Rosie up and brought her upstairs, where he changed diapers and filled her baby bottle with water for the night. She beamed at him when he offered her to choose between the teddy pyjama or the space ship pyjama. 

“Teddy pyjama”, she said with shining eyes.  
“Okay, the teddy pyjama it is”, Sherlock said” but what do we say when we want something?”  
“Please”, Rosie squealed.  
“Very good.” 

He smiled and began putting on the pyjama. When he had finished he laid her down in her crib and quickly went downstairs to get his violin.  
He loved playing, especially for Rosie. He chose a comforting and calming melody and she fell asleep quite quickly, but Sherlock loved the relaxed look on her face and kept on playing for a while. Unexpectedly, just for a short moment, he felt at peace with himself and the world. Standing there and watching Rosie sleep peacefully made him feel whole. His life had never been easy, people always hated him for who he was and when they did not, he had shut them out when they came too close. The one person he let closest, he gave his heart to, was the one hurting him most and he needed all his strength to not let him see that. Rosie gave him hope, because he loved her just as much as he loved her father, but she could not hurt him in the ways John did. Sherlock thought about what they could be, if only everything was different. He never had acted on his feelings as long as Mary was there, even though he wanted to really badly. However, now that she was gone, he still could not, because John was convinced that he was not gay and had other things on his mind anyways.

When he had finished playing the violin, he silently closed the door behind him and went down the stairs into the living room, where John was already seated in front of the television. Sherlock put his violin back in its case and joined him on the couch. They had done that for a while now, so it was not unusual that their feet touched. However, it made Sherlock feel slightly unsettled, so he decided to shift a bit away from his friend, who shot him a slightly confused look. 

“Did Rosie fall asleep quickly?”  
“Yes”, Sherlock answered shortly, not intending to engage in a conversation.  
“I liked the melody you played for her”, John tried again.  
“I wrote it especially for her bedtime, so it did not sound too loud or agitated for her to fall asleep.”  
“Sherlock that’s amazing, you know that you don’t need to do all that, right?”, John’s dark blue eyes looked up at him and made his stomach twitch.  
“I know, but I like to.”  
“Would you mind watching over her tomorrow for 2 hours or so? I have an appointment with my therapist. She usually does not make appointments on Saturdays, but she made an exception for me.”  
“No, I don’t mind, I can do that”, the taller man’s mouth tucked slightly upwards and he took a short look at John, who seemed very relieved. 

If he knew how much fun it was for Sherlock to spend time with Rosie, he would be surprised. Half an hour later the doctor raised and announced that he wanted to go to bed, because he never knew if and when Rosie would wake up at night, so he would try to get as much sleep as he could. Not much later Sherlock also disappeared into his room and went to bed. Of course, that did not mean he would sleep, no, he usually did not sleep any longer than 2 or 3 hours at most, but he could not play the violin at night or experiment with gun powder, because the risk of waking up John and/or Rosie was too high. Like this, Sherlock just laid there in bed, stared at the ceiling and sorted his mind palace.

The few times when he was alone and able to think rationally, he realised that he was proved wrong, that he did have emotions, even though he liked to think he was above all that. He always had emotions and if he was being honest with himself, they were what had kept him on track during his cases. His sister did not care, his brother did not care, but he, Sherlock, he had always cared. He cared so much it tore him apart. On one hand he hated it, but on the other hand it made him feel alive. When Sherlock thought this, he began smiling and the smile did not disappear when he doze of in a light sleep somewhen in the early morning hours.


	3. Chapter 3

John

 

John left the flat at 10 o’clock in the morning, he didn’t know how long Sherlock had already been awake or whether he slept at all, but the detective had prepared breakfast for the three of them and they had enjoyed the sleepiness of a Saturday morning. Now that he left the flat, he inhaled the fresh air of a cold spring morning. Sherlock would surely have told him now, that the air was indeed all but fresh, since in winter the carbondioxide in the air increased, because the trees could not do the photosynthesis due to the missing leaves. He smiled at that thought and hailed a taxi to drive him to the therapist’s house. 

John had decided to go back to his old therapist, since he knew he could trust her and she already had an idea of how he thought about and dealt with his problems. After he had started to open up a little, it worked out really well and he always felt better after talking to her.   
He arrived at her house, she let him in and he sat in his usual seat. Only then she began speaking: 

“Good morning John. How do you feel today?”, she asked him in a comforting tone.   
“I am not quite sure. I do feel okay, my job is fine, Rosie seems happy and is making progress really fast, but Sherlock has behaved very strangely the last few weeks. He does not solve any cases or leaves the house at all. He is just sitting there, saying nothing and spending the whole day in his mind palace. We barely talk and when we do, he always looks extremely sad or snaps at either me or anyone else. I just don’t understand.”   
“And how do you feel about that?”   
“It is definitely not a good thing. I wish he would tell me what is going on. I would to be there for him, no matter what it is. I want things to go back to where they were before.” 

He did. He wanted the detective to roam around, be sarcastic and sassy and arrogant. He knew those were the things that usually annoyed him, but he missed that. He wanted Sherlock to run around on crime scenes. Dammit he wanted him to be happy, but at the moment, this mess of a man seemed just lost in his mind and John couldn’t do anything. 

“It seems like you cannot do anything, if he does not want to tell you, he won’t, so why don’t you focus on other things and just wait what happens, maybe he will approach you at some point.”   
“Yeah of course”, John huffed “you do realise that we are talking about Sherlock Holmes, right?”   
The therapist looked at him for a second and then said: “This seems to upset you more than you are ready to admit. Why do you care so much?”   
“I care so much because he is my best friend. That’s what friends do, take care of each other I mean. We are living together and raising a child, I want Rosie to grow up in a happy environment.” 

John thought about how his friend behaved more like a father than he did. Right now, he was with her doing god knows what, but John knew he could trust Sherlock with this. He was absolutely wonderful with her. The way he looked at her… John interrupted his thought process at this point, he could not think of his roommate like that.  
However, Sherlock really was the most wonderful and caring person regarding Rosie. He would do anything for her. Sometimes John thought his friend did an even better job than Mary had. And hell, Mary was Rosie’s mother after all. The therapist had remained quiet and John realised that she expected him to keep talking. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I care so much, because I just want him to be happy after all this stuff with his sister”, he got slightly frustrated when he realised he was not really convinced by this himself. 

Those were all good reasons, but none of them would be enough to make him care so much. So, what was it then? A small voice spoke up in his head, but he pushed it away, before it did too much harm.

“Do you still think about Mary?”, obviously the therapist had decided to change the topic. 

Good decision. John was partly relieved that she let go of the Sherlock topic, but he didn’t like to answer this question either.

“Yes, I do, a lot. I think about how she lied to me and how I didn’t realise that. How can you not know that your wife is an assassin? I think about how I practically cheated on her. I don’t know why, it just happened”, John sighed “I think about why she had to die, why she chose to give her life for Sherlock. She was a damn mother, what mother would sacrifice her life when she has a little child?”, John could feel the anger well up inside him, so he stopped talking before it got too much. 

He sunk down in his chair. He felt empty and exhausted. The therapist took a few notes and then she put her pen and notebook down. She spoke the next words very carefully: 

“John, I have known you for quite some time now, you have opened up a lot lately, but there is a question you never answered and I have the feeling that this is still bothering you. Do you remember the meeting after Sherlock had jumped from the roof of St. Baths?”   
“Yes”, John replied with a small voice. 

What was all this about? He was confused, why would she bring this up now? She knew very well, what this did to him.

“You said to me that there was stuff that you wanted to say to Sherlock but could not say it before he died. I asked you to tell me about it, but you didn’t. I get the strong feeling that after his return and until now you still haven’t told him this, whatever it is. Is this right?”

How could she? The memories came flooding back and John gasped for air. He remembered the day vividly. He had never experienced such pain. It had been the worst day of his life, thinking about Sherlock jumping from that roof still made him want to scream. It still felt like someone ripped his heart out. Yes, there had been stuff that he wanted to tell him, but that was no longer relevant. So many things had happened since then, it just wasn’t the same anymore. After some time, John had gone over to think that he was just sexually confused at that time, now he was back in track and had decided that it was best when no one ever got to hear what had crossed his mind back then. After all, he was not into men. John Watson wasn’t gay, he just wasn’t. He never had been attracted to a single man in his life, so why would he be now.

“I’d prefer not to talk about this”, John managed to press out.   
He slowly got up, his vision blurred, and turned towards the door.   
“I would like to go now”, he heard himself saying. 

Trying to maintain his last bit of dignity he forced his emotions back and said goodbye. She had no right to do this to him. Why did she have to put him through such pain? Now everything was worse than before. 

I was much later that it occurred to him that the therapist had just wanted to help him and leaving so abruptly had just been plain rude. What did this behaviour say about him? He dreaded going down that road, because it might lead to him discovering something deep in his heart that he was not ready to discover yet, so he just pushed all these thoughts aside.  
He could really need a distraction, so he took his phone out and dialled the number an attractive woman had given him yesterday. She had seemed very keen on meeting him again, so this might be a good thing for John, he liked having this sort of attention. Amber, that was her name, picked up the phone after four rings. They talked for a few minutes and then settled on meeting the next day at Angelo’s for lunch.

-The next day-  
“So basically, you’re running around London and solving crimes and being a professor at Baths is just your day time job?”, Amber asked curiously.   
“Yes, you could say that”, John answered in a bored voice. 

They all asked him the same questions, next she would want to know about how it was to live with Sherlock Holmes. His thoughts drifted off to the last evening. He and Sherlock had sat on the couch, watching crap telly. Usually, Sherlock would shout at the TV screen how dumb everyone was and how they could not notice that the maid was definitely the one that took the jewellery, but instead he just glared off into the distance and seemed far away. John had asked him, if he would want to watch over Rosie during his date, but the detective hadn’t answered. John figured that he could not expect from him to do everything, so he asked Mrs. Hudson, who was very happy to fill in.

“You’re working with Sherlock Holmes then? How is he like? I can imagine it is kind of hard to live with him”, Amber interrupted his thoughts.   
“Actually, it isn’t that bad”, Johns answer was short and not exactly polite, but he didn’t really care. 

Instead of asking anything back, John took a big gulp from his wine. He thought of the first time he had eaten at Angelo’s. He remembered the smooth light on Sherlock’s face and their kind of awkward conversation. Angelo had assumed that they were a couple, of course John immediately corrected him, but Sherlock had not said anything. He had corrected Angelo’s every sentence, but remained quiet regarding the “date” topic. Sherlock had said many confusing things that evening. Girlfriends were not his area. He hadn’t said that about boyfriends…   
John realised that he should think about anything other than this. He cleared his throat and emptied his plate as fast as he could. Initially he wanted to end the date right after dinner, but Amber asked him, if she could come and take a look at their flat. John said no at first, but after she pleaded him to, he thought he would owe her at least this request, since he hadn’t shown any serious interest in her at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock

 

Sherlock stopped playing the violin, when he heard voices in the hallway, of which he one could immediately identify as John’s. The other one obviously belonged to a woman. He rolled his eyes at the thought of what was coming and slumped into his armchair. His stomach turned, because he hated seeing John with someone else, not that he hadn’t got used to this, but he had thought that John would not go on dates, at least not in the near future. It didn’t seem very wise to him to jump from one relationship into another, especially with a young daughter. On the other hand, maybe this was just a fling and John needed a distraction. 

“Sherlock, I want you to meet Amber”, John introduced her. 

Sherlock let his eyes roam over Amber and could not stop the words coming out of his mouth: 

“Stewardess, two cats at home. John, she is wearing cheap perfume, probably not one you should go for. She has not been on a date for a long time and spends most of her free time playing tennis. Her hair has not been cut in four, no five month, I really don’t think this is the standard you are looking for John.”   
“Sherlock,” John’s voice had this warning tone in it.   
“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Amber said with a weak smile. 

She kept fiddling with her hair, as she scanned the room. She seemed to take interest in every little detail of their flat picking everything up and looking at it very closely. As she went past Sherlock’s armchair, she let her hand slightly run over his back. Sherlock huffed and picked up a newspaper to be able to ignore what happened around him.   
He hated it when John brought his annoyingly stupid dates along. They were always so dull and none of them deserved his attention, time or affection. 

“Sherlock”, John growled, the atmosphere was frizzling from tension now. Sherlock groaned, lowered the newspaper and heard himself blurting out his thoughts:   
“No I don’t want to say hi to Amber. She is a completely disgusting person and I don’t see why you would spend any of your time with her. It would be completely and utterly wasted. “  
“Sherlock”, John shouted “stop it. Apologize. Now”. 

Instead of following Johns order, Sherlock turned to Amber and went: 

“When did you plan on telling him it is me you are after? How long did it take you to convince him to bring you here? Five minutes? Oh no, I see, it was seven, you aren’t that clever. You should be disgusted by yourself, using John to get to me. You repeal me.”   
“Sherlock”, Johns face had turned red and he was slightly leaning forward and clenching his fist. 

He lowered his gaze to the floor and tightened his jaw before looking up again. Sherlock could see the disregard and incredible anger in his eyes and swallowed hard. Meanwhile, Amber’s face had lost all colour and her mouth stood open. She seemed to pass out any second. John shot Sherlock another abhorred gaze before he said: 

“I think it would be best for us to leave now.” He led her to the door and helped her into her jacket, before apologizing for his friend’s behaviour. 

Sherlock looked at this with disgust. Why did no one ever appreciate honesty. The door slammed shut, they were gone again.  
Sherlock’s heart began aching, he didn’t want John to be with someone else. He wanted him of his own, he wanted to say, ‘this is my boyfriend John Watson’. He wanted to kiss him, to hold him close and never let go. He wanted him to be happy, of course, John of all people deserved to be happy the most. On the contrary that meant Sherlock had to step back when it was somebody else that made John happiest. He had done this many times before, stepping back, he had gotten used to the pain, but this time it was much worse than ever before. Not because Amber was so special, or John showed affection towards her in any way, but because John still seemed to go for women and did not seem to consider any alternative. 

A thought creeped into Sherlocks mind. There was a way how he could numb his pain. It would not hurt and he would be able to take a break. He was exhausted, powerless and there was a void in him, he could really use some rest. The solution was so easy and he had done it so many times before. He knew John would get furious, Sherlock thought of the disappointment that would show on John’s face and he got sick. To disappoint John was the last thing he wanted. However, he could only use a very small amount and John wouldn’t even know that he had taken drugs…


	5. Chapter 5

John

 

When Amber and him had left the flat, John had to ask her. 

“Is that true? Did you use me, because you wanted to get to Sherlock? Don’t lie to me, I will be able to tell.”  
“I’m so sorry John. You are a really nice person and…”   
“Stop it. Just stop it”, John interrupted her.   
“I think it would be best if you left now.”  
“I’m sorry”, Amber said and turned around. 

John took a few seconds to gather himself and decided he wanted to go for a walk. He could not just go up there again and pretend nothing had happened. He headed off to the park and began thinking about his current situation. If he was honest with himself, he had not been interested in Amber either. He just wanted a distraction and had used her for that, he had been a complete arsehole himself, he needed to fix that and apologize, but that could wait. He had also been incredibly unfair to the therapist, it was her job to find out about how her patients felt and why. She had done her best and John had just been rude, so another person he needed to apologize to. Why did all this happen in the first place? Deep down, John already knew the answer, but he just could not let these thoughts enter his mind.

John walked around the park for 2 hours, fighting with his emotions. Why was Mary gone? Everything would be so much easier if she still was here. Nothing would be so complicated or exhausting. Would Rosie turn out okay, or would he screw her up? John worried about this a lot lately, he had given her to different people the last couple of days. He was the father, it was HIS job to care about his daughter, not Sherlock’s or Mrs. Hudson’s. But sometimes everyone needs a bit of space for himself, right? Suddenly his phone started ringing and interrupted his inner monologue, it was Lestrade: 

“John, you need to come to the hospital as fast as possible”, he sounded terrified and John felt himself starting to panic. He had never heard the inspector so stressed, his voice was full of concern.   
“What is it? What happened? Did something happen to Rosie? Is she okay?”, John pressed out, fear taking over his mind.   
“No, no Rosie is fine”, Lestrade replied quickly “it’s Sherlock, he got shot and it does not look good”. 

Silence. John could not speak, his throat was dry and he could not breathe from the weight that now pressed down on his chest. 

“I am sorry you have to go through this again, John”, the inspector said, but John was not listening anymore, the world around him blurred and he started running towards the street. He jumped into the next available cab and practically screamed at the driver to get him to St. Barts hospital. He later would not remember the cab ride, how he paid the driver or how he stormed into the hospital. His world was falling apart, again. Sherlock was the reason for this, again. Mrs. Hudson had been right, he couldn’t lose Sherlock as well. John’s heart was pounding heavily when he entered the surgery department. Mycroft and Lestarde were already there, but they informed John everyone else would be coming soon. 

“What happened?”, were the only words John could force out.   
“We don’t know exactly yet, but it looks like he has been chasing after a murderer. He shot Sherlock in order to get away”, Lestrade replied. 

John’s stomach turned, his heart clenched and he could feel his hands turning sweaty. The last thing he had said to Sherlock had been horrible and he did not apologize. All of this seemed like a very bad dream. Why was all this happening to him again? John forced back his tears, no he could not cry now. 

“What do the doctors say”, his voice was merely a whisper.   
“They said it would be very unlikely for him to survive, because he already lost a lot of blood, before he was found”, the inspector fixed his gaze on the floor and decided not to look up again. 

John let himself fall into a chair and let his face sink into his hands. He stared on the ground, Lestrade’s words echoing in his head. He said unlikely, so it still was possible that Sherlock survived. John had to hold onto this straw, otherwise he would lose his mind. He did not realise when Mrs. Hudson together with Rosie, Molly and Sherlocks parents arrived. He did not realise that Rosie started crying for her father.

John thought of his and Sherlock’s happy moments together, the first case, where this wonderful man showed him that he indeed did not need a cane, when they came back breathless and were laughing about each other’s stupid jokes, when Sherlock pickpocketed Lestrade or Mycroft in order to get to information he usually did not have access to, when they escaped together after John had punched the officer, who said Sherlock was a freak. All those moments had been full of joy and Johns heart welled up.

And then it dawned on him. Right there and then John realised that nothing today had been about Amber and nothing yesterday had been about the therapist or Mary. It had been about Sherlock and him. It always had been and it always would be. John’s heart clenched when the puzzle finally came together. He, John Watson, was in love with Sherlock Holmes. It was time to accept it. He had supressed these feelings for so long and it had cost an immense amount of energy to deny it. He not only had lied to himself, but to everyone around him as well. He loved Sherlock with every part of his body. He loved him for his laughs, they were really rare, but when John could see them, they were the most perfect thing in the world. He loved him for all of his flaws, his arrogance and his ignorance to name only a few, but most of all, he loved him because of the way he was with Rosie.

He could not bare, if Sherlock died now. It was like a lever had switched in John’s head. Tears started rolling down his face and quiet sobs escaped his throat. He rarely cried, especially not in front of other people, but he just could not take it anymore. A small wet spot, which grew bigger quite quickly, formed between his shoes. John felt someone sitting down next to him and laying an arm around his shoulder. It was Molly, who also seemed to have cried.   
The next thing John could remember was the doors of the surgery opening. A young doctor came walking down the corridor, a serious expression on his face. Johns heart started aching.   
“He was really close to leaving us, but he will be fine”, the doctor said after a pause which seemed to last an eternity. He continued with a critical look on his papers:   
“We will have to keep him for a while, but one of you could visit him now. Since he is asleep and needs rest, everyone else should go home and come back tomorrow.”

All the pressure that had built on John’s chest fell away now. Sherlock would survive. They could still have their happy end. They would be fine, at least that was what he hoped. He had no idea what would happen, after he finally could admit what he was feeling.   
He said goodbye to everyone and returned home with Rosie, since Sherlock’s mom would be the one staying with him over night. There was no point in arguing with her and it seemed reasonable to let her be the one seeing Sherlock first.

At home John took care of Rosie and spend some time playing with her. She really was an Angel. Her smile was bright and her mood also affected John positively.   
However, he still had no idea how to deal with his newfound feelings for the detective. He figured that he somehow had to act on this, supressing his feelings had done so much harm already, he could not keep going like this any longer. But how was he supposed to address the topic? Would Sherlock even bother to answer? Would it turn their friendship into something awkward? Hell, he was a grown man, he should know how to deal with all this. There was no denying however that he felt like a love-sick teenager. He had no idea how Sherlock would react, since he had told John right away that he considered himself married to his work, but John felt that this might not be true anymore. When he gave the topic another thought, it occurred to him that Sherlock might be having feelings for him too. Suddenly there was an explanation for his weird recent behaviour. Sherlock Holmes, of all people, was in love with him. John had never considered that even possible, maybe that was one of the main reasons why he had decided to suppress his feelings. However, John was only now able to see the signs that had been there all along.

Girlfriends weren’t Sherlocks area, boyfriends were. Sherlock had never corrected anyone when people were assuming they were a couple. Sherlock had jumped off that roof for him and when he came back and apologized John had only seen the betrayal and not that Sherlock really wanted him to forgive him. Sherlock had accepted that John married a woman. Even the wedding, hell, he had done everything to make it the best day of John’s life. The speech Sherlock held had been so wonderful and only now John realised that this speech had been a love letter to him. He fought back his tears when he thought of Magnussen, Sherlock had crossed the red line to keep him safe. Sherlock had killed for him. After Mary’s death he went through hell and back just to get John’s attention and help him overcome his grief. He let John punch him nearly to death without saying anything at all. Sherlock found out he had a secret psychotic sister and there had not been one single word of complaint when they were captured in Sherrinford. He had just pushed through and had done his best to get everyone out of there alive.

Then John thought of the many times they had stared into each other’s eyes, he thought of the incredibly happy moments Sherlock had made him laugh. Sherlock said John had saved him, but Sherlock had saved him likewise. John didn’t need a walking cane anymore. He didn’t have nightmares and he really felt at home in 221b. 

 

The next day:

When John arrived at the hospital, his detective was still asleep. He sat at his bedside and looked at his beautiful face and those stupid cheekbones. He could not decide if he rather would punch him for being so stupid or kiss him, because he was so glad that Sherlock was still alive. He was not sure what to do now, should he wake him up? Or just sit there in silence and keep staring at his face? He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair. He really hated silence. It always reminded him of the two years he had spent alone, thinking Sherlock was dead. It reminded him of fear and uncertainty. He decided to fill the silence until his flatmate would wake up:  
”So… ehem… What exactly did you think? That throwing yourself in front of a gun would be a good idea? “ 

He felt stupid, talking to someone who was soundly asleep, but it really made him feel better. 

“I really was horrified Sherlock. Never do this again, please. I probably won’t survive the next time, so promise me you won’t be such an idiot anymore.” He swallowed.   
“If you were awake you would give me a weird and confused look now and ask me why. I will provide you with the answer: William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I am in love with you. There, I said it. I fell for you. I have no idea when and why, but I did. Why do people love anyways? What does love even mean, it is such a complicated thing and I have no idea what will happen when you wake up, but I had to get this out of my system." He shook his head, what in the world was he doing?  
"Okay, I will shut up now.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock

 

When Sherlock opened his eyes after many hours of sleep, John was directly looking at him. He had a very concerned expression on his face, but seemed kind of relieved that he was waking up, since that is generally considered a good sign, meaning that the person is alive. There was something else in John’s eyes, but the detective could not quite tell what it was. Under normal conditions he might have considered that his friend finally had come to terms with his feelings, but since Sherlock still was on strong medicine, he pushed this thought aside.

John saw him as a friend, this would never change, not today and not in 10 years. His mind was just completely off track because of the painkillers the doctors were giving him. If John felt the same way he did, he would say something now, when he, Sherlock, had barely escaped death, that was when you usually realised you had feelings for someone. That John said nothing now could only mean that he had either no romantic interest at all and Sherlock had been wrong all along, or that the feelings just were not strong enough for John to act on them. Either would break Sherlocks heart. He closed his lids again, so John was not able to see the pain in and the tears that burned at the back of his eyes. 

“Hey, are you okay”, John sounded concerned.   
“Yes sure, why wouldn’t I be okay?”, Sherlock said sarcastically.   
“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe because you just were shot and nearly died?”, was his friends answer, of course equally sarcastic.   
“I enjoy getting shot, haven’t I told you yet?”   
“Okay stop now, if you can makes these kind of jokes you can’t feel so bad”, the annoyance clearly showed in the smaller mans voice. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Sherlocks mouth, eyes still closed he enjoyed the feeling of warmth that Johns presence never ceased to give him. When he opened his eyes, he directly looked into John’s, who seemed to have scooted a little closer. 

“So you don’t need anything then?”, John raised his eyebrows and shot Sherlock a questioning look.   
“A glass of water would be nice.” 

“Okay I will go get one for you.” He stood up and headed for the door, just as he was about to leave the detective raised his voice again: 

“John?” His dear friend looked back over his shoulder:   
“Hm?”   
“Thank you. For everything.” 

The response was a nod and a quick smile, not what Sherlock had hoped for, but at least he had managed to say an honest thank you, something he did not do a lot. Once again he was reminded of how much he needed John’s attention and his caring nature around him.


	7. Chapter 7

John

 

A few weeks later:

 

The last couple of weeks had been really painful for John. After Sherlock had been released from the hospital, he had been even grumpier than before. He incredibly bored, since he was not allowed to go on cases again and therefore had to stay home. John had done his best to make it as easy and interesting as possible in the flat. He had tried to keep Sherlock occupied and busy, but it did not seem to have worked out. 

The detective was shouting abuse at him constantly and even if John was probably the most patient human being in Great Britain, there was a tipping point for him. He had given small hints that his intention towards their relationship had changed, but either Sherlock had not understood them or he had just decided to ignore them because he was not interested. John shook his head, it was Sherlock after all, there was no way that he had NOT realised what the doctor was doing. The ever so light brush of hands when John was passing him something, the lingering looks when Sherlock was in his mind palace, the deep eye contact when John tried to calm him down again.

He had come to the conclusion that he must have been wrong regarding Sherlocks feelings towards him. Either that, or the detective had just changed his mind and was not interested anymore, now that John was. He sighed, walked into the living room and passed Sherlock one of the two cups of tea he was holding.   
“There you go”, John sat in his chair, thinking for a few seconds. He had to tell Sherlock how he felt, there was no way around it and this had been going on for too long anyways. “Sherlock, there is something I want to say, could you listen to me for a second?”   
The detectives eyebrows furrowed, but his eyes still stuck to his laptop.   
“I’m serious Sherlock, I did so much for you in the last couple of weeks and you have not been exactly nice to me, so the least you can do is listen to me.”   
“Not now, John, there is someone who mailed me an interesting story, I have to solve this case first.” 

John could already feel the anger building in him. He also was exhausted, he had no energy to keep pushing Sherlock to talk to him. It made him feel frustrated, because it really was not easy for him to talk about this stuff either, but he still tried to. When he rose from his chair, he did not shout at Sherlock, but his voice was full of hurt and anger and bitterness: 

“Okay fine, if you can’t even look up from that damn screen when someone is trying to tell you that they are in love with you, you probably don’t deserve them anyways.” 

He headed towards the door and only realised what he had said when he felt a strong hand gripping his arm. John turned around to find Sherlock looking at him in the most vulnerable way he had ever seen him. There was a hurricane of feelings visible in his eyes. 

“Say that again”, the detective said under his breath.   
“You heard me correctly and I am not going to repeat that”, John was still angry even though his heart had begun fluttering.   
“I used to think that you had feelings for me too, but since you have returned from the hos…” he was not able to finish his sentence, since Sherlock had grabbed his face and pressed their lips together. 

John’s heart jumped in his chest and his knees got weak. Sherlock’s lips were so soft and tender, but tasted salty and bitter at the same time. John had never experienced or felt anything like this. It was so completely different to a woman’s kiss, especially the angle, but he loved this. He loved Sherlock. When they broke apart he could see all of Sherlocks usually so well guarded feelings, right in front of him. All the pain and the sadness, the disappointed hope and loneliness. Then John understood.

“So, you know”, Sherlocks voice was merely a whisper “you know about...”, he didn’t finish the sentence.   
“Yes”, John could see it know, it was right there in front of him. He only had to look into Sherlocks eyes and he could see all the love the detective felt. John did not need him to say the words, Sherlock said ‘I love you’ through his eyes, he said it through caring for Rosie, he said it through everything he did for John. After realising this, a wide smile spread over John’s face.  
Sherlock’s face was only inches apart from his, so John could feel the detective’s flat breath on his lips and the heat radiating from his body. He shut his eyes and closed the gap between them.

The world blurred, when John opened his mouth and slightly licked Sherlocks lower lip with his tongue. Sherlock’s immediate response was a low sigh, before he also opened his mouth. John pushed his tongue slowly between Sherlock’s lips and when their tongues met, a jolt of electricity went straight to his groin. This felt magic.   
Suddenly, John’s hands were buried in the taller man’s dark curls, slightly pulling and the kiss became much more intense. Sherlock’s hands were on his back and neck, John felt their warmth and his whole body was tingling. He sucked on the detective’s lip and bit on it. Sherlock let out a low moan and thrusted his hips forward, which led to their erections brushing against each other for just a small moment. John gasped for air, his stomach was turning and twisting and want in a never known intensity built in him. He needed more. He guided Sherlock a few steps towards the door and pressed him against it. He grabbed his wrists, raised them over their heads and pinned the detective to the door, pushing his hard erection right between Sherlock’s thighs, where he found him indeed equally hard. Many little moans were escaping from Sherlock’s mouth, which made John only harder. He loved seeing Sherlock coming apart under his touches.

Only then it occurred to John that Sherlock might not be exactly used to this, so he interrupted the kiss and looked up to him. There was this incredible intensity in Sherlocks ocean blue eyes and it took his breath away. It made him feel so wonderful and special that his heart swelled. Sherlocks eyes changed into a questioning look, so John stuttered: 

“Sherlock, are you okay with… going… further?” 

The dark-haired man pulled him back into the kiss, before starting to pull John’s jumper over his head. John had already begun unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt when he realised that the detective was slowly guiding him towards the bedroom.

“Is that a yes?”, he managed to ask between kisses. 

Sherlock pulled him even closer and lowered his mouth right next to John’s ear, his voice low and raspy: 

“Obviously.” 

“Oh Jesus Sherlock”, was the last thing John said, before the detective kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this: Thank you so much for taking the time and reading until the end. I hope you liked my idea of how things in 221b might evolve after Season 4 :).


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